


sunflower

by spearbi



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: ? - Freeform, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hanahaki Disease, Light Angst, M/M, Oneshot, Vomiting, also being gay and stupid, and uhh talking abt death, dance student! felix, florist! seungmin, happy endings, seunglix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 12:08:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19887505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spearbi/pseuds/spearbi
Summary: seungmin is a florist. he only hates flowersafterhe meets lee felix.





	sunflower

ONE

≿————- ∞ ————-≾ 

The ironic thing is that Seungmin has always loved flowers- adored them, even. It’s no surprise to anyone- gardening runs in the family, after all. His earliest memory, gold-tinged and hazy, is of flowers.

If he concentrates hard enough, he can remember the day ( cloudless, sunny, baby-blue skies ) and the place- a grassy hill just outside of his grandparents’ property, dotted with wildflowers and dense thickets of bokbunja.

Sometimes, if Seungmin is in the right headspace, he can hear the warbling sound of the stream behind his parents, feel the bright wind on his face.

_“Dad, what are you doing_?”

_His father raises his index finger to his lips, shushing him silently, a little smile quirking up at the corners. “I’m making a bouquet of these little flowers for mommy. Want to help_?”

_Seungmin, five and wide-eyed and eager, nods so hard that his floppy hat slides off. Chuckling, his father puts it back on after tussling his hair affectionately. “Come on, then_.”

_Seungmin learns about the odd, purple little flowers first- “Dumejaun,” his father says, big hands cupping one of the tiny, vibrant petals, and Seungmin repeats the word obediently, reverently_. 

_After that, there’s doraji-blue flowers shaped like little balloons-, and then there’s rose moss, and bibichu, and a kaleidoscope of other colours and flowers that fill Seungmin’s head and heart_.

_His father plucks a single, cheery sunflower. Seungmin knows that one already- it’s his favorite flower, because they’re tall and look like sunshine and he can eat the seeds._

“ _I want to be like you when I grow up,” Seungmin announces, watching closely as his father deftly arranges the flowers with scraps of strings and ribbon. “I wanna work with the flower-people_.”

“ _Flower-people?” His father echoes, a beam on his face. “You mean you want to be a florist? Like me_?”

_When Seungmin nods, he’s nearly bowled over by the look of shining pride on his father’s face. “When you grow up a little, I’ll show you the ropes, how about that_?”

“ _Okay,” Seungmin breathes, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet. “Okay!”_

_And his father gives his little hand a squeeze, and they go and creep up on mommy and surprise her, almost making her jump right out of her sun chair, and then his daddy gives her the bouquet and she smiles, love love love in her eyes, and Seungmin sprouts like the sunflowers around him, dizzy with sun and the simple joy of being alive._

It’s a good memory; great, even.

(And then the world had to go along and absolutely fucking ruin it for him. )

≿————- ∞ ————-≾

So here’s Seungmin, twenty-one, still in the family’s flower shop.

(Not for long, though- Seungmin has dreams of school and getting out of this little town and moving to Seoul. He just needs to work a little longer, save a little longer. )

It’s a small place, but cozy, and plants and flowers drape over almost every flat surface there is, the sweet smell of their petals soaking into the floors and the ceiling and the walls. It gives him a headache, most days.

Seungmin sighs and taps his fingers on the oak counter of the front desk, bored out of his mind.

It’s a Wednesday, and nobody ever comes to the store on Wednesdays this early in the morning. They all come later in the evening, though, wild-eyed and desperate for anything to win their lost lover back. People break up a lot on Wednesdays, he’s found.

Something buzzes on the other side of the counter. Seungmin eyes it warily before picking it up. 

It’s just Jisung. 

Seungmin lets out a small sigh of relief and adjusts his glasses with one hand, pushing them up the bridge of his nose. He doesn’t know if he could stand another argument with his father- not today.

“Hello?” He says, briefly considering stepping out to get breakfast or something. It’s not like anybody comes in his early anyways.

“Hey!” Jisung says, way too chipper for this hour of the day, “I got the day off! Wanna meet up for breakfast with me?”

Seungmin does a mental double-take. “Yeah, sure- how’d you get the day off, though?” Jisung interns at a little music company- “ _A stepping stone to the bigger thing_ ,” Jisung tells him- and while the company is small, they’re still very busy, all the time. 

He can practically hear Jisung shrug. “A bunch of people called in sick. Boss said there a bad flu going around- I’m just fine, though. Can we go to the place with croissants? I really, really need a croissant.”

Seungmin casts one last look around the empty shop before relenting. “Fine. But only for an hour- my dad will have my ass if he knows I’m not at the shop.”

“Your dad can kiss my ass.”

“I don’t think that anybody wants that.”

“Touche,” Jisung laughs, and Seungmin hangs up, a little smile on his face. He grabs his jacket and pulls open the front door in one swift motion before locking it. He almost forgets to turn the “We’ll be back soon!” sign hanging on the doorknob.

“It’s Wednesday morning,” Seungmin murmurs, trying to convince himself. “Nobody ever comes in the morning.” He makes his way down the sleepy little street, keys clinking against the glass face of his phone inside his thick wool jacket.

It’s spring, and while the sunshine is bright and constant, it’s still cold. Seungmin’s breath curls out in thick white plumes, making him feel a bit like he’s a dragon, smoking around the mouth and nose.

He buries his pinkening nose in the cuff of his jacket and hurries towards the little pastry shop three blocks down. The one with croissants.

There’s nobody on the street at this hour, which is a little strange, even for a Wednesday. Usually there’s a paperboy, helmetless and in shorts, chucking papers at the windows and the stoops. 

Even Mr. Lee, the gnarled old man who runs the little vegetable stand on the corner of the street, is nowhere to be seen.

Seungmin shrugs. Whatever. He’s hungry and half asleep and in need of both his best friend and a good cup of coffee.

Jisung is already waiting for him inside, hands wrapped around a big cup of coffee. He’s in a brown coat that almost matches the color of his hair; Seungmin thinks it makes him look like a chestnut. Sugar packets lie scattered on the table, the aftermath of a violent battle.

“I got you coffee! Extra sugar, just the way you like it.”

“Thanks,” Seungmin says gratefully, latching onto the hot beverage. “Where’s your drink?”

Jisung jerks his head towards the front counter, where the two baristas are whispering amongst each other and giving them dirty looks. “In progress. Apparently asking them to recreate a Starbucks drink is highly offensive to their hipster identity.”

Seungmin snickers and takes a sip of his drink. For a hipster place, it’s not too bad. “If you’re not careful, they might kick you out for violating hipster law.” 

“It’d be worth it. This is like, the best croissant I’ve ever had. Ever. This is my fourth.” Jisung pulls his croissant out of its eco-friendly paper bag and takes a huge bite out of it, making a loud, exaggerated noise of delight.

Seungmin ducks his head as the other people in the cafe turn to stare at them, clearly annoyed.

“Can you maybe be like… less horny about it?”

Jisung chews obnoxiously and waggles his eyebrows. “Food is horny by nature. So are flowers, you know.”

“They are not,” Seungmin says, exasperated. “You’re the one who’s horny by nature.”

Jisung shrugs, a little twinkle in his eye. “You said it, not me.”

They fill the cafe with meaningless chatter and easy talk- Jisung is close to getting promoted. Seungmin never doubted him, not for a moment- Jisung is whip smart and talented to boot. Eventually the shorter boy asks him carefully about school, and Seungmin admits with a little smile that he’s sent out all his university applications.

Jisung is nineteen, rich, and a prodigy, and Seungmin is twenty and going nowhere with his life. 

(He feels a little stupid, sometimes, but he knows he’s not. Sometimes, life just sucks. )

“Good,” Jisung says firmly, “You have the most beautiful voice I’ve ever heard, and if I don’t hear it on the radio at some point I’m going to go insane.” Seungmin ducks his head at that, a pleased little grin on his face.

Eventually, the barista stomps over and hands Jisung his vibrant purple drink, a scowl on her face. “Here’s your capitalistic drink.”

Seungmin sprays out a mouthful of coffee all over Jisung at that, and Jisung laughs, eyes kind as he hands the barista a tip. She blushes and stutters something at Jisung before scurrying off.

“Anyways,” Jisung says, whipped cream on his top lip, “How are you doing? I know today is-,”

“I’m okay,” Seungmin says shortly. He sighs and looks down at his coffee. It’s too sweet. “I’m okay,” He says again, softer this time. “My dad and I aren’t speaking again.”

Jisung’s brows furrow. Gently, he reaches across the table to hold Seungmin’s hand. They’ve always been like this, the two of them. They’re as thick as thieves, his mother used to comment to Jisung’s mother, Two peas in a pod. 

Jisung is the brother Seungmin never had.

“Do you want to stay over at my place tonight? My cousin is coming over to stay sometime this afternoon, but the couch is there with your name on it.”

“You know I hate asking for favors.” Seungmin drinks down the last of his coffee, wrinkling his nose at the too-sweet sludge at the bottom of the cup. Jisung flicks Seungmin on the forehead.

“Dumbass. That’s why I’m asking you. I haven’t seen my cousin in like, ten years. I need somebody to buffer the awkward.”

“I didn’t even know that you had a cousin,” Seungmin comments nonchalantly, fingers picking at a bamboo napkin, and Jisung grins. He speaks the language of Kim Seungmin very well, and he knows a Yes when he hears one.

“Sure do! He’s been living in Australia for the last little while, so his Korean is a bit rusty. He’s here for school- he’s a dance major.”

“That’s cool,” Seungmin says offhandedly, mind already drifting away to the flower shop. “Look- I’ll think about staying over, okay? I have to get back to the shop.”

Jisung nods. “You don’t have to go back, you know? It’s not your responsibility. It’s your dad’s, and it’s not fair for him to just fuck around while you break your back running that shop all day-,”

“It’s what my mother would have wanted,” Seungmin says, cutting him off. He stands up and shrugs on his coat.

“Is it, though?” Jisung murmurs. Seungmin ignores it and slides a five across the circular table.

“For the coffee.” He hesitates. “I love you, Sungie.” Jisung shoots him a lopsided smile, gaze steady.

“Love you too, dude.”

The streets are much busier now, and Seungmin is forced to push his way through the crowds of people lining the sidewalks. What the hell is going on? He thinks, a slight trickle of unease running down into his stomach. These people seem on edge, nervous. He thinks he sees the paperboy on the other side of the street, eyes wide and face pale.

Somebody yells something, and a squad of police cars streak past, red lights flashing and sirens wailing. That’s not good. Seungmin starts jogging, not wanting to be caught up in the middle of whatever was going on outside.

He sends a text to Jisung: **something weird is happening outside**

Seungmin arrives panting and sweaty to the shop- and everything is normal, to his immense relief. La Fleur Jaune, the hand painted sign exclaims, and it’s normal, the shop is normal, and there’s nobody waiting outside because it’s a Wednesday morning and everything is slow slow slow.

His hands shake as he unlocks the door and steps inside. After a moment of hesitation, he locks the door behind him. Something is wrong- something’s not quite right, today. Maybe he’s just on edge. 

_Today is_ \- Seungmin takes a deep breath and slides behind the counter, shivering despite the humidity of the shop- _today is a bad day._

His mother passed away, ten years ago today. And it’s a Wednesday.

Seungmin’s head is a beehive of thoughts, buzzing and loud. He goes over to the roses to keep his hands and his mind busy. Roses are delicate, fragile flowers, despite their thorns, and they actually need quite a bit of care to turn out right. 

( He should hate flowers, but he doesn’t. Not yet. )

Humming softly, he waters the flowers, and gently clips off the dead leaves and petals, making sure that the soil is damp enough or dry enough, depending on the flower.

His father taught him all this, before his mother had gotten sick.

Seungmin thinks about him as he carefully dunks a popsicle stick into the soil and ties it to a drooping stalk of baby’s breath, wonders if he’s drunk already, even though it’s not noon yet. 

Losing someone you love changes you irreversibly, and sometimes people cope with it, and sometimes they don’t. Seungmin’s father is not coping at all.

If he had been, Seungmin wouldn’t be here in this shop, day after day. _Maybe_ , a tiny part of him suggests, _you’re not coping too well, either_. 

“Shut up,” Seungmin says aloud, “I’m coping just fine. I’m going to go to university, and I’m going to _sing_ , and then I’m going to get the hell out of this town.” 

Seungmin thinks of Seoul, the city of lights and dreams and open possibilities, and smiles. And then he screams, because somebody is pounding on the front window of the shop and _scaring the everloving shit out of him_. 

“What the hell!” Seungmin hisses, whirling around, spade held up threateningly. He doesn’t know exactly what he’s expecting- a zombie, maybe`, or a man dressed in all black with twin swords strapped to his back- but it’s certainly not a beautiful man in a leather jacket. 

“Hey!” The beautiful man shouts, deep voice muffled slightly by the glass, “Can you let me in?”

“Why should I?” Seungmin yells back, eyes narrowed. Seungmin has three rules to live by: 

One, to never drink, ever,  
Two, to leave for Seoul as soon as possible,  
and three: to never trust beautiful, strange men, because they’ll probably end up being serial killers, or something along those lines.

Rule number three is fresh in Seungmin’s mind as he steps forward and crosses his arms, aware that he must look like a mess, sweaty and covered in dirt. 

Beautiful Man blinks at him, a strange expression on his face. “Uh, because I’d like to buy a bouquet?” 

Seungmin puckers his lips. “Oh.” 

He walks over to the front door and unlocks it, cheeks burning. _Get a grip, Seungmin_. The beautiful man ducks through the doorway- he’s tall, Seungmin notes.

_Almost as tall as I am, and that’s saying something_. 

“Sorry about that,” Seungmin says sheepishly, beckoning the man inside, “Today has been...weird.” 

“Yeah,” The man says, rubbing his jaw with long fingers, “There’s some sort of protest going on downtown. Not sure over what, though.” 

Seungmin hums and rummages through a drawer for a notepad. “Hopefully it’s nothing too bad. What kind of bouquet did you want?” 

The beautiful man stares at him, his bronzed skin gleaming in the soft lighting.There’s a smattering of freckles on his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. 

“You know… I don’t really know.” He rubs the back of his neck bashfully. “I was hoping you could help me out.” 

_Oh dear_ , Seungmin thinks, _he’s cute_. He shakes his head. 

“Yeah, okay! Who is this for?” Seungmin squints and leans forwards. “Did you just break up with somebody?” 

“What? No,” The man blurts, hands fidgeting at his sides, “It’s for a relative. We haven’t seen each other for a while, and I was hoping that a bouquet would like, break the ice. Or something.”

“Oh, that’s sweet,” Seungmin says, already moving over to the flowers. “I think I have what you’re looking for.” He crouches behind the snapdragons and gets to work. 

“Yellow roses symbolize friendship and platonic love, so I’ll put a few of those in.” Seungmin carefully clips off a few stems, making sure to cut in at an angle. 

“Yeah- cool,” the man says, a little lost. He has some sort of accent that Seungmin can’t quite place- British, maybe- and he pieces together his sentences a little awkwardly. 

“I didn’t know that flowers had actual meaning.”

“There’s a whole language behind them,” Seungmin says quietly, moving over to the peonies ( love, luck ). 

“Flowers have been used to send secret messages, proclaim love, and tell stories. They’re important.” 

The man smiles at that, eyes bright with curiosity, and Seungmin’s heart skips a beat. Briefly, he considers asking for the stranger’s number, but the possibility of being embarrassingly rejected keeps his mouth shut. 

_I doubt he’s interested in disheveled, dirt covered men, anyways_. 

Seungmin collects a few sprigs of lavender and a few stalks of camelia. After a beat of hesitation, Seungmin reaches over and adds a single lush sunflower to the centre of the bouquet .

“Sunflowers are one of my favourite flowers,” the man says absentmindedly, brow knitted as he scrolls through something on his phone. 

“Same here,” Seungmin admits, flushing when the man looks up to meet his gaze. Something sparks between them, flint against stone. Seungmin might be imagining things, but he swears that the other man's’ eyes darken imperceptibly. 

Seungmin’s never believed in falling at love at first sight, but maybe-

His phone rings, cutting through the strange tension, and both men jump. “Oh- _shit_ \- sorry, one second- I need to take this,” Seungmin stammers, fumbling with the phone before accepting the call. 

“It’s no problem,” the man says, but Seungmin isn’t listening because the voice crackling on the end of the line isn’t Jisung, not by a long shot. 

“Seungmin, I-,”

Seungmin hates the way his voice sharpens, detests how the words tumble like broken glass inside his mouth. “This isn’t a good time, dad. I’m working.” 

_At_ your _store_ , Seungmin bites back, frustration bubbling up, slow and caustic. 

The last time they’d spoken, Seungmin’s father had chucked an empty beer bottle at his head and slurred something about ‘disowning his miserable excuse of a so”, so he’s not really in the mood to talk to his father. 

Not today, anyways. Today is about his mother. 

“I just wanted to apologize about last week- that wasn’t me, kiddo, you know that.”

To an extent, his father is right. Alcohol does warp a person, change them, but Seungmin’s heard this a time too many to be moved by it. 

“There’s always an excuse,” Seungmin murmurs, soft and sharp, and his father falls silent. “It’s always someone else’s fault, isn’t it? You’re so blind to your own actions.”

“ _Seungmin_ ,” his father implores, a tinge of desperation leaking into his voice, “Listen-,”

Seungmin doesn’t listen. Instead, he hangs up calmly and turns back to the beautiful stranger. His father has ignored him for an entire week, and he’s ignored him for months previously, so the man can wait until after tomorrow. 

“Sorry about that. What colour ribbon would you like?” 

The stranger gives him a knowing, sympathetic look, and Seungmin winces. “Red, please.” 

At least it’s a good bouquet- a warm hue of yellows and gold and blue-purples, with little pockets of lavender poking out from the sides. Seungmin untenses as he rolls the flowers in clear, crinkly plastic and ties it at the bottom with a silky, strawberry-red ribbon. 

“Is this okay?” He asks, holding out the bouquet. 

The man smiles, nods, and takes it with careful, gentle hands. _Even his hands are freckled_ , Seungmin notes, _they look like little stars._

The stranger pays in cash, not card, and he leaves with a cheerful ‘Have a good day!’, the door shutting softly behind him. 

Seungmin stares out the glass window, holding the extra ribbon in his hands. His chest aches with something strange and light as the man disappears down the street, in the direction of the rising sun. 

And then a police car speeds by, sirens blaring, and Seungmin snaps out of his daze. _Best to get back to work_. He shakes his head and wipes his dirt stained fingers on his apron, vaguely aware of his phone buzzing impatiently on the counter. 

“Okay, okay,” Seungmin mutters, massaging his chest as he hurries over to the register. “I’m coming.” 

It’s Jisung. 

**thottie**  
_dude . fuck_  
_DUDE_  
_something is happening_  
**you**  
_what??_  
**thottie**  
_im coming to get you_  
_dont let anyone inside_  
_close the shop_

Seungmin swallows, unease building in the pit of his stomach. _He sounds serious._

**you**  
_ok_

He does as Jisung asks; the OPEN sign is flipped around, and the doors are locked and the blinds pulled down. The plucked flowers are placed carefully in the cooler in the back room, and Seungmin makes sure that the lights are all turned off before he goes to wait by the back door. 

_What the fuck is going on_? 

Maybe it had something to do with the crowd of people he’d pushed through coming home from the bakery- he’d thought it was a protest, initially, or even a small celebration of some sort. 

_There’s probably been a theft in the area,_ Seungmin reasons, thumb rubbing over the slick glass face of his phone. _Or maybe it was a protest back there, and it’s grown out of control_. 

Nothing ever happens on Wednesday mornings- except for today, apparently. _Just my luck_. 

Somebody knocks softly on the back door, and Seungmin yelps, nearly toppling over in surprise.  
“Jisung?” 

A little huff of strained laughter. “No _shit_ , Sherlock. Come on, we seriously need to get the hell out of here.” 

Seungmin throws open the door with twitching fingers- and it’s Jisung, yeah, but he looks absolutely terrified, his eyes wide and face pale. There’s a dust mask over his face, and an extra in his hand. “Put this on.” 

Seungmin complies, wincing as the sides of the mask catch on the metal studs in his ears. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” 

Jisung taps his foot nervously against the ground as Seungmin locks the back door. “Just- come _on_ , Min. I’ll explain in the car, okay?” 

Seungmin isn’t even able to respond before the shorter boy is pulling him towards the familiar blue Jeep, steps hurried and nervous. 

“Buckle in,” Jisung mutters, turning the key in the ignition and hissing as the car rumbles to life. As soon as he hears the telltale _click_ of the belt sliding into the chair, he hits the gas, tires squealing on the asphalt. 

Seungmin gasps as he’s thrown backwards, his body pressing against the seat. “What the fuck is this? GTA six? You’re going to get us pulled over!” 

“Oh, we’re the least of the police’s worries right now,” Jisung replies, speeding through a red light, ignoring the irritated honking of the other cars. Seungmin gapes at him, mouth wide open. 

“What the _fuck_ is going on?” 

“I don’t really know for sure,” Jisung says tightly, eyes fixed on the road ahead, “But it’s not good. It’s big. It started maybe ten minutes after you left- people started screaming and running around in the streets. They started kneeling over, Min.” He swallows, lower lip trembling. “I think they _died_.” 

Seungmin inhales sharply. “You must have been mistaken.” 

They both fall silent as three police cars and an ambulance speed by, completely ignoring the both of them. Seungmin twists around in his seat to stare out the back window. “Something is on fire back there,” He whispers. 

A large, bone-black cloud billows out and upwards from the direction of the cafe, an angry and ugly smear against the pristine blue sky. 

“Yeah,” Jisung says unevenly. “Yeah.”

≿————- ∞ ————-≾

They make it back to Jisung’s place in one piece, thankfully. Jisung parks the car in the street and the both of them book it up the stairs to the third floor instead of using the elevator. It’s only when they’re in the safety of Jisung’s apartment with the door locked behind them that Jisung seems to relax.

“Holy fuck, that was intense,” Jisung breathes, running his hands through his sweaty hair. There are red marks on his cheeks from where the mask was. “Lemme just-,” He scrambles over to the television and turns it on. 

Seungmin just stands in the doorway, mind blank. 

Seungmin has read about this kind of thing in comic books and sci-fi novels- the end of the world, a mysterious mass outbreak- but never before had he thought he’d be experiencing it himself. It’s horrifying, and absolutely fucking surreal, because Jisung’s apartment is still normal. 

The sun is still filtering through the windows cheerfully, and there’s muffled music playing from one of the rooms. 

It’s horrifying because something terrible is happening and everything around Seungmin is still _normal_. 

“Look,” Jisung calls, his voice wobbly and thick, “Seungmin- oh my god-,” 

Seungmin walks over, numb, to see the panicked faces of the news people on channel nine. 

“- _annot say yet just what is causing people to seemingly drop dead on their feet- or from where- but we can confirm that it is spreading outwards from Seoul. Residents are advised to stay indoors and close their windows and vents. Do not go outside, and do not let people in. We have Jaehyun on the scene- Jaehyun, what’s going on_?” 

The camera pans from the young woman to an even younger looking man. He clears his throat nervously. “Kim Jaehyun reporting live from Seoul. Sooha, it’s chaos here. People are dropping left and right and there’s no discernable reason as to why- oh, _fuck_ -,” 

The cameraman swings the camera around just in time to capture a young woman vomiting onto the sidewalk- _but that’s not vomit_ , Seungmin realizes- and collapsing, clawing at her throat desperately. 

“ _Jaehyun- Jaehyun- what is she vomiting up_?”

Seungmin’s hand reaches up to cover his mouth as the reporter voices what he already knows. 

“They’re- they’re _flowers_.” 

Not just any flowers. They’re bluebells; entire flowers, bell shaped and silky, evident even through the shaky camera footage. Seungmin had grown his last plot just the other day.

“This is crazy,” Jisung whispers, sinking down to his knees. “This can’t be happening.” 

Onscreen, the woman twitches one final time before falling still. 

Outside, somebody bangs on the apartment door. 

Jisung and Seungmin share a look of mutual terror. “Don’t,” Seungmin hisses. “Did you not hear what they said? Don’t let anybody inside.” 

“Jisung!” The voice calls out, oddly familiar. “It’s Felix- there’s something going on outside, please open up.” 

“Fuck,” Jisung says thickly, and runs over to the door, throwing it open. Seungmin sees the bouquet first- yellow roses and peonies and lavender, with a single sunflower peeking out from the top. _It’s the man from the shop_. 

Jisung pulls the taller man into a hug, kicking the door closed behind him. “Thank god you’re here- it’s a mess out there.” Felix pats his cousin’s back with a freckled hand, one hand still clutching the bouquet tightly. Seungmin looks away when he sees those hands tremble, something aching in his chest. 

“Oh- hey, I know you!” Felix waves the bouquet back and forth. 

Seungmin looks up and waves weakly. Felix is just as handsome as he’d been earlier, and despite the situation, Seungmin can feel his cheeks start to burn. “Hi. You’re the cousin, then?” 

Felix nods. “Yeah- came over from Australia for university here. Dance major.” His stance is loose, easy- _he doesn’t know_. He must not have run into any trouble along the way, or seen anybody collapse, which is probably for the best. 

Jisung looks between the two of them, a shadow of a grin flickering across his face before it’s gone just as quickly. 

Any other time Jisung would laugh about the whole thing, make fun of Seungmin for not picking up on the fact that Felix was clearly his cousin during their exchange. Maybe he’d take the two of them out for dinner after, and they’d drink too much and dance to the same big hits in some nameless neon club. 

Any other time, and Jisung would laugh. But after seeing everything unfold, he only wishes that Felix had stayed in Australia. 

Jisung looks over at the television. The camera has long been abandoned but is still running. 

Blue flowers fill the screen.

He swallows. “You sure chose a shitty time to come here, man.” 

Felix looks at the two of them again; really looks at them, and his expression settles into something more serious, more alarmed. “Are you two okay? You guys look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

Seungmin and Jisung exchange a look.

TWO, THREE, FOUR, FIVE

≿————- ∞ ————-≾

Felix doesn’t understand, and for the next couple days, the world doesn’t either. The disease is unlike anything anybody has seen before- flowers growing inside people’s _lungs_ , it’s unheard of- and there’s no apparent pattern to the victims, either.

Not at first. 

News outlets report that everything started from a chemical leak at a medical research facility in Seoul. An _airborne virus_ , doctors say, _a unique pathogen_. It chooses people at random and doesn’t discriminate- young and old, healthy or weak. A state of national emergency is declared, and the UN is brought in to determine the nature of the outbreak. With the airlines and ports shut down, South Korea is effectively shut off from the rest of the word and quarantined. 

It takes about a week after the initial outbreak for more people to die. It starts with a slight fever, and then a cough- and then small, silky flower petals that grow and grow inside the lungs until it suffocates them, clogs their airways and kills them. 

Surgeons attempt to surgically remove the plants, but are unable to keep the patients alive during the procedure. 

( “ _What a waste of time,” Felix says on day three of being stuck in the apartment. He’s curled up on Jisung’s couch in an oversized cream sweater and loose sweats that both belong to his cousin. “I can’t believe people are actually volunteering themselves when they know they’re going to die_.” 

_Seungmin looks over at him, surprised. “Is it really a waste of time if they end up finding a way to remove the flowers?_ ” 

_Felix stretches out like a cat, loose and limber, and Seungmin is forced to tear his eyes away from the strip of smooth, tanned skin that appears between the other man’s sweater and pants. “If it were me,” the blonde says quietly, “I think I’d like to just go in peace. Not be filmed and dissected on the operating table like a freak_.” 

_Seungmin takes in the plum-coloured circles under Felix's’ eyes, the tense line of his jaw. He’s not taking this well, he notes, but then again, none of us are. “Well,” Seungmin says instead, “if it comes to that, I’ll take you out myself. We’ll strap you to a bunch of fireworks and send you out to sea, or something_.” 

_Felix barks out a laugh, genuine and surprised. “You know, I thought you were kind of quiet and shy at first.” The older man leans his head against the back of the couch and grins up at Seungmin._

“ _Wrong again!”_

_Seungmin smiles, shrugs. “You’ll get it right eventually.” He ignores the fluttering in the pit of his stomach_. )

EIGHT

≿————- ∞ ————-≾

Eight days after the initial outbreak, the president announces that it- whatever it is- is not spread through human touch. Felix, Seungmin, and Jisung all exchange a look of relief.

“That means we can go outside now, then?” 

Seungmin shrugs. “I guess so.” He can’t help but feel secretly relieved; another night of being forced to share a bed with Jisung would have been unbearable. The guy’s a cuddler.

Jisung sits up slowly. “We should probably go to the grocery store, then. If I eat any more canned food I’m going to keel over.” 

_The grocery store has never seemed so intimidating before_ , Seungmin thinks, making sure his mask is secure over his nose and mouth as they step out of the apartment for the first time in over a week. 

It’s- normal outside the apartment, the hallways clean and bright. The only difference from before is that the people they run into are all wearing masks of their own, and they give the three of them a wide, nervous berth. 

Something tugs at his sweater from behind, and he jumps a little. Felix is loosely holding the back of his sweater, fingers loosely twisted in the fabric. 

“Sorry,” Felix says softly, relinquishing his hold, cheeks red, “I’m just a little…” His fingers are shaking again. 

Wordlessly, Seungmin grabs Felix’s’ hand and reattaches it to the back of his sweater. Felix’s’ hands are simultaneously soft and calloused, and Seungmin memorizes the feeling of the older man’s fingers against his own before dropping his own hand. 

“It’s okay.” 

Felix nods twice, eyes grateful and cheeks a pleasant shade of pink. Seungmin swallows and turns away, Felix’s’ hand an anchor at the small of his back, warm and solid. 

Jisung looks on and says nothing, a tiny little smile playing at the corners of his mouth under the mask. 

Seungmin almost cries when they step outside into the sunlight, because the air is _fresh_ and crisp and warm. It’s normal outside, almost busy, with people walking their pets and cars following the speed zone through the apartment blocks, but there’s a kind of invisible gloom in the air that hangs over everything. 

_There’s a thin layer of normalcy over everything_ , Seungmin realizes, _but what lies underneath it is fear, pure and simple_. He coughs, once, and rubs his throat absentmindedly. 

By the time the three of them make it down the block to Mr. Choi’s little market, they’re all a little looser, breathing a little easier. It’s nice to be out and about, even if the threat of an incurable disease hangs in the air. 

“I just wish we knew what caused it,” Jisung mutters, words barely audible through his mask. He opens the door to the market, flinches as the little bell overhead jingles. “I hate not knowing.” 

“I’m sure they’ll find out eventually,” Seungmin says waving at Mr. Choi, who watches them warily from across the counter, nothing like his usual cheerful self. “It’ll be okay.” 

Felix follows behind silently, his fingers still tightly gripping the back of Seungmin’s sweater.

They push the little shopping cart through the nearly-bare aisles, tossing in meat and rice and _more_ canned food, much to Jisung’s horror. 

Mr. Choi greets them at the checkout with a brusque nod, ignoring them in favour of watching the little TV mounted next to the window. 

“ _And here we have breaking news on the flower sickness_ -,” 

“Turn it up,” Felix says suddenly, his voice loud in the silence of the market. “Turn it _up_!” He repeats, and Mr. Choi does so, fingers sliding clumsily across the button. 

“ _Today, scientists from around the world have finally determined the cause of the unprecedented outbreak that happened in Seoul a little over a week ago_ …” 

Seungmin coughs once, twice, swallowing back the itch in his throat. 

( _Day five of being stuck inside the apartment, and Seungmin can’t sleep, not when Jisung is snoring and beside him. He swings his legs over the side of the bed and creeps out of the bedroom and into the hallway to the kitchen, shivering a little at the change in temperature. The little clock over the fridge reads three in the morning, and Seungmin resigns himself to another night of shitty sleep_. 

_He puts on the kettle and slumps over the counter, head in his hands._ I’m so fucking tired. _And it’s not even from lack of sleep- being scared and anxious is so, so tiring, and Seungmin desperately wants everything to go back to normal. Somebody taps his shoulder lightly and he nearly drops his mug_. 

“ _Holy shit, Felix, you scared me_!” 

“ _Sorry, sorry,” Felix mumbles apologetically. “Just- you can’t sleep, either_?” 

_Seungmin stares at the man, stares at his twisted expression and faded aerosmith t-shirt that covers his boxers, making it look almost like he’s wearing nothing underneath at all. He looks- scared, he looks like a child_ \- 

“ _Hey,” Seungmin says, “Are you okay_?” 

_Felix looks at him blankly. “No,” he admits after a long, heavy silence, lower lip wobbling, “No. I’m not_.” 

_The kettle whistles and chirps, and Felix cries, dropping to a crouch and covering his face with his hands to muffle the sounds. Seungmin stands still for a moment, mug in hand, before sinking down slowly_. 

“ _Sorry,” Felix says, “Sorry- I don’t want to wake Jisung up- I just-_ ,” 

“ _It’s going to be okay,” Seungmin lies, hand reaching out carefully to rest on Felix’s’ shoulder. “We’re all going to be okay_.” 

_He’s beginning to realize that Felix is softer, gentler than he lets on- someone so kind that it makes Seungmin want to be kind as well._

_Felix just drops his head onto Seungmin’s shoulder and cries harder, and after a little while Seungmin realizes that Felix is not the only one who’s shaking. There’s salt in his mouth and on his cheeks, and Felix smells like the shampoo they all use and pine_. 

_“Thank you,” Felix whispers hoarsely, lips moving against Seungmin’s neck, and Seungmin shivers, wonders why Felix is saying thank you to_ him _when it should be the other way around._

_Jisung finds them the next morning on the kitchen floor, twined around each other like newborn puppies. “You know,” he says, pouring himself a cup of coffee as Seungmin slowly wakes up, “You could have just taken the couch_.” 

“ _Shut up,” Seungmin snaps, entirely aware of how Felix’s’ arm is still draped over his torso. He rubs his puffy eyes. “This isn’t what- It’s not-_ ,” 

_Jisung just raises an eyebrow and takes a sip of his coffee_. ) 

“Excuse me,” Seungmin manages, barely holding back the sudden wave of nausea that’s overcome him, “I need to use the washroom.”

Mr. Choi hands over the lanyard with the key, eyes glued to the staticky television screen. Seungmin speedwalks his way to the back of the store to the restroom and fumbles with the lock, sweaty fingers slipping against the metal. 

_Nonono, please_ \- he barely makes it into one of the stalls before his coughs turn into gags, wracking his entire body and leaving him gasping for breath. 

“ _We’ll explain it in layman’s terms, but please listen to us when we tell you that this report is one hundred percent serious. This is coming directly from the Blue House_.” 

He vomits once, twice, numb fingers gripping the edges of the toilet bowl, before the nausea passes and he sits back. 

Tears blur his vision as he rests his cheek on the cool porcelain of the toilet, his entire body shaking with adrenaline and something else. He already knows what he’ll see, but he looks anyways, heart sinking like a stone. 

Floating in the toilet are a handful of cheerful, yellow petals, long and elegant and spotted with little flecks of blood.

“ _The pathogen, which one patient has dubbed the ‘hanahaki disease,’ is contracted when the host falls in- and we are being completely, deadly serious- when the host falls in love with someone who does not return those feelings_.” 

“Sunflower,” Seungmin croaks, sinking back against the stall door. He closes his eyes. “Of course.” 

Turns out that it is possible to fall irrevocably in love with somebody in eight days.

SEVEN, SIX

≿————- ∞ ————-≾

Seungmin is stupid when he’s scared. He does silly, irresponsible things when he’s frightened- he always has, even as a child.

_His mother laughs, light and gentle, the sound passing over her lips like a chorus of tiny bells. “Come down from there, darling. It was just a cup; I can easily replace it.”_

_Seungmin looks down from his perch in the tree, lower lip wobbling. “But I broke it! And it was your favorite!” Embarrassed by his own tears, he turns his head away and rests his forehead against the warm, sunkissed bark._

_“You’re wrong, Seungmin,” She calls back up, saccharine sweet. “You’re my favorite.”_

_Seungmin sniffles and peers down at her. She’s in a yellow sundress, a straw hat in her hands. She looks like light and warmth and homemade cookies. “Really?”_

_She laughs. “Really really.”_

And in the memory, Seungmin slides down the tree into his mother’s soft arms. Smelling of lemongrass and brown sugar, she pulls him close and whispers sweet nothings into the tiny shell of his ear. 

Now, though, the flowers spill over his lips in a floral waterfall, sunny yellow and warm to the touch. They’re getting bigger. 

Seungmin has six days left. 

There’s no way out of this that he can see. No cure, no way to stop the growth. The best option is to just- leave and _wait_ somewhere, or take matters into his own hands. 

Seungmin’s stomach churns at that thought, and he dry heaves again, bringing up nothing but stomach acid and a single wilted petal. 

The knock on the bathroom door startles him. It’s Jisung. “Hey, you okay in there? You’ve been in there for a while.”

“I’m fine,” Seungmin manages, voice hoarse, and walks over on wobbly legs to shut off the flow of water from the shower. “You know how much I love wasting water.”

“You’ve been in there a lot,” Jisung says tentatively. “Are you feeling okay?” 

Seungmin stares at his reflection in the mirror, his eyes tracing the circles under his eyelids and the sickly pale sheen to his skin. “Yeah,” he says eventually, reaching under the counter to pull out the bottle of foundation he knows is there. “I am.” 

There are a couple of things he wants to do before he goes.

FIVE

≿————- ∞ ————-≾

Felix chokes on his bite of blueberry muffin. “You’ve never been on a _rollercoaster_?”

“He hasn’t,” Jisung confirms from his spot on the couch, one hand in a bag of hot cheetos while the other flicks through tv channels. “I’ve tried to get him to go before, but he’s always chickened out.” 

Seungmin grins and waggles three Lotte World tickets in the air. “I dunno, I’m kind of in the mood for some manufactured fear today.” 

Jisung’s jaw drops. “Seriously?” 

Seungmin nods solemnly, ignores the prickling in the back of his throat. “ _Seriously_ seriously.” 

Felix looks up at his cousin, eyes puppy-dog wide. “Can we go? Can we pleaaase go?” 

For the first time in a long time, Jisung laughs. “Yeah, yeah. Get in the car.” 

The rollercoaster isn’t scary anymore. Seungmin doesn’t know how to feel about that. He does, however, know how to feel about the ice cream stuffed churros and the cat cafe, and the new DLSR camera that costs most of his savings: happy. 

They go to the beach that evening, and while Felix and Jisung strip down to their boxers and race to the ocean, Seungmin coughs up mouthfuls of sunflower petals into the fine, tan sand, chest aching. 

He makes a sandcastle over them, locking them inside a prison of wet sand and seashells.

_Funny that I’m happier right now than I’ve been in a long time_ , Seungmin muses, holding his new camera up to his face. 

The world looks pristine through the camera lens; Seungmin realizes then that he’s capturing memories with every _click_ of the shutter, and proceeds to take pictures until the sun has dipped down to kiss the sea and until his two closest friends are shivering and salt-soaked. 

Jisung attempts a sloppy cartwheel, his hands and feet kicking up sand. Felix laughs and does a neat handspring in response. 

Seungmin watches his body curve and twist, notices how the tips of his hair and the slope of his shoulders catch the dying gold light, and quietly crumbles.

_( “You’re a dance major?”_

_Felix looks up from the comic book Jisung lent him. “Yeah, third year.”_

_Seungmin glances at the blacked-out windows and wraps his arms around himself. They’re in the spare bedroom, and the room is bare of everything but a single naked lamp in one corner. “What kind? I know there’s like, ballet, but is there anything you specialize in, or-,”_

_There’s a soft light in Felixs’ eyes, though that might just be the golden luminescence of the lamplight. “A mix of contemporary and modern, mostly, but I was trained in ballet since I was a little kid. Mom loved putting me into just about any after school class, and I ended up falling in love with ballet.”_

_The words tumble bravely out of Seungmin’s mouth. “Can I see?”_

_He flushes when Felix raises an eyebrow. “I mean, only if you want to!”_

_“I always want to,” Felix replies, and stands. Seungmin watches him pad to the center of the room, spine straight and legs crossed. He heaves a deep breath, closes his eyes, and transforms- changes from flesh and blood to something more, something made entirely of air and glass and light._

_Seungmin can’t look away, even though the looking hurts more._

_Felix jumps and twists and bends to an unseen orchestra, and Seungmin watches it all with bated breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. )_

On a whim, the three of them get matching infinity tattoos: two slim loops twisting around each other in an endless mobius strip of ink and skin.

THREE

It all falls to pieces on day three, when Jisung finds a sunflower petal on the bathroom floor.  
Seungmin is sitting on a stool, waiting for his mug of tea to cool on the kitchen counter, when he bursts out of the bathroom, face ashen.

“Did anybody bring flowers home?” 

The volume of his voice is enough to pull a bleary Felix out of his bedroom, hair mussed up and eyes puffy with sleep. “What?” 

“Flo-wers,” Jisung enunciates slowly, fingers white around the canary yellow petal. “Did you bring _flowers_ home last night.” 

Seungmin watches a terrible awareness enter Felixs’ expression, watches his easy peace drain away. “No, I didn’t.” 

They both turn to Seungmin slowly, and that’s when he knows the jig is up. His hand snakes up to cup his own throat slowly; a strange sticky sadness settles in the pit of his stomach. 

“I wasn’t going to tell you,” he says softly. “I was going to put it off until the very last moment. Guess I got sloppy.” 

“Seungmin,” Jisung says lowly, “What are you saying?” 

“I’m saying that I started coughing up sunflowers four days ago.” 

It’s like dropping a bomb. Seungmin can see the initial explosion: Felixs’ jaw dropping, Jisung’s fingers loosening until the single petal flutters down to touch the kitchen floor.

And then there’s the aftershock; Jisung shaking his head and saying _this isn’t funny, Seungmin_ , and Felix staring at him like he’s the physical embodiment of the apocalypse. 

Seungmin bites back a hysterical laugh and adds a spoonful of sugar to his tea. “I’m not joking. I’m going to be dead in three days.” 

Jisung looks lost. “You’re not- I- _why_?” 

“I fell in love.” Seungmin doesn’t want to look at Felix, not ever again. His chest already hurts enough. 

“Who?” 

He looks anyways. Felix is on the verge of tears, it seems, and his freckled cheeks are red. Seungmin huffs and rolls his shoulders. “I think you already know.” 

Felixs’ face crumples. Jisung looks back and forth between them, dawning horror replacing the confusion on his face. “Oh my god. Oh my _god_.” 

“I’m sorry,” Felix says thickly. “I’m so sorry- god, Seungmin.” He takes a step forward; Seungmin leans back. _I don’t want your pity,_ he thinks hollowly. _I’ve already made peace with this. Leave your pity out of it_. 

“It’s fine,” he squeaks, hating how tiny and miserable he sounds. “It’s not your fault, Felix.” Felix shakes his head, and anger sparks in Seungmin’s gut. “Felix. It’s _not your fault_. These things happen- you can’t control how you do or don’t feel.” 

He and Jisung are both crying, now, but Seungmin is dry eyed and tight-chested. Felix stops right in front of him, cheeks wet with tears and eyes glossy. “It is my fault. Look, Seungmin- I-,” 

“Don’t say it,” Seungmin warns. “You don’t mean it.”  
Felix shakes his head, bends down, and _oh_ \- 

Get this-

Lee Felix _kisses_ him. 

Felixs’ mouth is warm and soft and _safe_ ; he tastes like cherries and sweet, false hope. Seungmin starts crying when Felixs’ hand reaches up to cup the back of his head, because it’s a gesture that is far too gentle to be a lie. It is, though, because Seungmin can still feel the flowers blooming and sprouting in his chest, choking him slowly. 

But god, does it want it to be true. He wants Felix in every hour of the day, just to be able to see how the sunlight bounces off the planes of his face and streaks through his hair. He wants to hold hands with him in public and grow old with him. 

Seungmin _loves_ Felix, and as much as he hates them, the sunflowers inside of him are living proof that his feelings are real.

Felix pulls away when he tastes the tears on Seungmin’s cheeks, his brow furrowed and eyes wet. His hands stay curled at the nape of Seungmin’s neck, though, and the feeling of them there is heavier than Seungmin thought.

“It doesn’t work,” Seungmin whispers, touching his lower lip. “It won’t work.” 

“Why?” Felix whispers, voice hoarse and eyes wide. 

Seungmin smiles down at the ground, eyes stinging. “Because you don’t love me.” 

Felix drops into a crouch, expression distraught. “I _do_ ,” He hisses, tears streaking down his cheeks. “I do.” 

Seungmin shakes his head. “Not in the way I need you to. You can’t- you can’t force it, Felix.” He swallows, and it . “You can’t force love.” 

Jisung speaks around a sob. “What are we going to do?” 

“You aren’t going to do anything,” Seungmin whispers. “I’m going to check myself into one of those clinics- maybe they’ll be able to get some information or progress out of me.” 

Felix flinches violently at his, and Jisung jolts forward, expression horrified. “You can’t- you can’t do that, Minnie. They’ll cut you up- they’ll _kill_ you, you’ve seen the news videos-,” 

“I’m _dying_ ,” Seungmin shouts, and the brittle sound of his voice echoes around the walls of the apartment. “I’m dying,” he says again, quieter this time, “And _I_ get to choose how I want to go.” 

The three of them sit in a suffocating silence for what seems like years. Felix is the first to break the silence. “When?” _When are you going_? 

Seungmin licks his lips. “Now, preferably. They want people in their fourth and third days. Anything before that is too early, and anything after…” 

_Too late._

“You can’t do this,” Jisung says fiercely. “You can’t just go in there and… give up.” 

“I’m not giving up,” Seungmin retorts. “I’m going out how I want to, and maybe if I’m lucky, I’ll be able to give someone else another chance.” 

If this were a fairytale, Felix would fall in love with Seungmin right then and there, and the flowers in Seungmin’s lungs would disappear.

If this were a bedtime tale parents read to their children, Seungmin and Felix would get married, have two children and grow old on a farm, where they’d watch the sun rise and set from their front porch. 

This story is neither of those things, though, so Jisung and Felix let Seungmin go. 

They cry and they shout and they plead, but Seungmin goes anyways, holding hands with both of them.

_( “Hey, dad.”_

_“About time you called- where the fuck have you been?”_

_“Dying,” Seungmin says, and boy does his father shut up real quick at that. “I have the flower disease. I’m checking myself into a clinic- you know which ones- and I just wanted to say bye, I guess.”_

_“Are you joking?”_

_There’s an edge of disbelief in his father’s voice._

_“No,” Seungmin whispers. “I wish I was.”_

_“Seungmin-,”_

_“They’re sunflowers,” Seungmin croaks. “Sunflowers_ , daddy.” 

_He closes his eyes and hangs up. He thinks of his mother. Maybe she’ll be waiting for him on the other side. )_

The clinic isn’t the twisted, ugly place the news outlets make it to be- it’s clean and white and the nurses are kind but not pitying. 

A doctor in a set of clean blue scrubs sits Seungmin down and explains that they’ll be trying to clear all the flowers out of his lungs, that chances of surviving are slim but possible, and that he’s a Very Brave Young Man for doing what he’s doing. 

Seungmin nods, says, _thank you_ , and signs all the forms. Jisung and Felix are beside him the whole time, attached to his hip like baby possums. Seungmin hands them each a thick letter typed days ago, makes them swear to only open them if he doesn’t wake up. 

They promise; Jisung hugs Seungmin so tightly that his ribs ache, and Felix presses a soft, lingering kiss into Seungmin’s cheek. 

“I love you,” Seungmin says quietly, and Felix nods, staring down at their linked hands. 

“I love you too,” he replies. “I’m sorry that it’s not in the same way.” 

Seungmin smiles. “You don’t have anything to apologize for. Since you came around, I’m the happiest I’ve been in a long time.” 

The operating room nurses have to explain to Jisung and Felix several times that no, they can’t be present in the OR, and no, they cannot hold Seungmin’s hands the entire time. 

They can, however, wait outside, and the last thing Seungmin sees before the anesthesia kicks in is them waving at him through the circular windows, smiles wobbly and arms around each other. 

“Don’t be scared,” a nurse says gently. “You won’t feel a thing, either way.” 

_I’m not scared of dying_ , Seungmin tries to say. _I’m scared of being left behind_. 

There’s a velvet-soft dark pressing at the backs of his eyes, and Seungmin sinks into it and thinks of open fields of flowers and straw sun hats. Somewhere, his mother waits in a field of sunflowers for him, her brown eyes warm and comforting.

≿————- ∞ ————-≾

He stands at the boundary line, calls out to her. Beyond the white picket fence is an endless sea of sunflowers, pale yellow and undulating gently in the wind. A woman stands at the centre of it all, one hand on her heard to ensure that the wind doesn’t blow her hat away.

It’s his mother. 

_Mom_ , he says. _Mom. I miss you. I want to see you_.

She waves, the wind fanning her long black hair out like a flag. _Not yet, dearheart. You have more flowers to grow_.

≿————- ∞ ————-≾

This is not a fairytale for children, but it’s not a story for jaded adults, either, so Seungmin wakes up.

(His mother waits for him. She will wait for him for a very long time. )

≿————- ∞ ————-≾

He wakes up to the joyful faces of the doctors and nurses, listens groggily as the head surgeon tells him that they were successful, that Seungmin no longer has flowers in his chest.

They bring two people in, after he’s all patched up and wheeled into the recovery wing. He’s the only patient in there right now, but thanks to him, there will be more. 

“Seungmin,” Jisung sobs, pressing his forehead against Seungmin’s. “I was so _scared_ , we were so scared about losing you- we thought you were going to die!” 

“I’m still here,” Seungmin chokes out, heart warm and lungs breathing easy. He pauses, then. “ _We_?” 

Jisung pulls back, a half-smile frozen on his face. “Yeah, Felix and I?” 

Seungmin peers over Jisung’s shoulder. There’s a man standing there, eyes puffy and face freckled. “Sorry,” he says finally, confusion making his voice curve up into a question, “Do I know you?” 

The careful smile on the freckled man’s face drops. 

Jisung searches Seungmin’s face. “What do you mean, you don’t know him?” 

“I mean that I’ve never seen him before in my life,” Seungmin says. “Why are you acting so weird?” 

The man makes a strange, choking noise and turns away. 

“I’m going to call for the nurse,” Jisung suggests, and presses the button.

+1

≿————- ∞ ————-≾

Seungmin doesn’t see the freckled man again. He’s released from the clinic a month later, healthy as can be. He’s a hero, somehow- the first survivor of the hanahaki disease. He’ll be immortalized in history and medical textbooks, apparently.

“How do you feel about being called a hero?” One reporter demands as Jisung wheels him towards the car. Seungmin blinks up at her, shrugs sheepishly. 

“I don’t know about a hero- but I think that surviving is a victory, for sure. I’m glad people won’t be as afraid of this illness anymore.” 

People ask him for _autographs_. It’s weird.

+6

≿————- ∞ ————-≾

“Does the name Felix mean anything to you?” Jisung asks him one day over coffee. It’s a new cafe that they haunt, now- somewhere more expensive, where people won’t flock to Seungmin and ask him to sign their napkins or heal their sick babies.

Seungmin stares into his expresso, tilts one head to the side. It’s like watching scenery flash by from the window of the subway- quick and empty. 

“No,” he says. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anybody with that name before.” 

Jisung excuses himself to the bathroom and returns several minutes later, eyes watery.

+15

≿————- ∞ ————-≾

His father comes over to the shop one day, tired looking but clear eyed.

Seungmin eyes him warily, fingers frozen around the stem of a strawberry plant. 

There’s an apron tied around his father’s waist, and both his hands rest behind his back. “I was thinking,” he says carefully, “That maybe I could help out. I know it’s no excuse for the way I treated you, but-,” 

He pulls out a small pot of purple-blue dumejaun, expression hopeful, and Seungmin cries. Seungmin cries, and hugs his father for the first time in years. 

_Maybe_ , he thinks, _everything will be okay._

The flower shop is so popular that Seungmin has to shoo people out hours before closing, lest they run out of stock. He signs autographs at the till, and firmly tells religious grandmothers and grandfathers that no, he is not the second coming of Christ. 

His father stays sober, and Jisung is always, always there. Seungmin is happy. 

_Everything is okay._

And it is.

+?

≿————- ∞ ————-≾

Seungmin is closing up shop on a cloudy Wednesday when somebody walks in.

“We’re closing up in fifteen minutes.” Seungmin calls over his shoulder, carefully balancing two flats of peonies in his hands. 

“That’s fine,” a man says, “I already know what I want.” 

Seungmin dusts dirt off of his hands and makes his way past the racks of plants towards the till. 

“You’re lucky you came in today,” he says. “I’m leaving for Seoul tomorrow, and the shop is going to be closed until my father hires somebody new.” 

“You moving there?” 

“Nah, just setting up a bigger sister shop there.” Seungmin pulls his notepad out of his apron pocket, looks up, and is hit with an overwhelming sense of deja vu.

The man standing there is strikingly handsome, with sun-bleached blonde hair and a worn leather jacket. 

There’s a spray of freckles on his face. 

Seungmin’s heart thumps wildly; flushing, he speaks. “May I take your order?” 

“I’d like to buy a bouquet,” the man says quietly, his gaze intense. “For an old friend.”

Seungmin feels a little faint. “What kind of flowers would you like?” 

The man smiles, coughs into his hand. When he pulls his fist away, yellow petals flutter from his mouth to the floor.

“Just sunflowers, please.” 

“Yes,” Seungmin says after a long while, and then: “You’re sick?”

The man nods. “Yeah. I have more time, though- new treatments and all. Nothing like what you had to go through.” 

Seungmin nods, hands gathering the brightest sunflowers they can find. “Am I what brought you here?” 

The stranger laughs at this. “Well- kind of. I have relatives that live here, and I just finished my dance degree.” The stranger hesitates. “I was actually wondering if you were hiring? I know quite a bit about gardening, now.” 

Seungmin blinks rapidly and hands the man the sunflower bouquet, a surprised smile on his face. “We do! My name is Seungmin- and you are-?” 

“Felix,” the man says brightly, his smile wide and warm. It makes Seungmin want to pick up his camera and take a picture.

“My name is Lee Felix. It’s nice to meet you again.” 

Seungmin misses the _again_ bit, because he’s too busy trying to _not_ ask a complete stranger out for dinner. “Nice to meet you,” he repeats, and it is. 

It’s really, really nice.

+∞

This time, it will be different. 

**Author's Note:**

> and then they fell in luv (again) and got married and had 2 kids and a dog amen!
> 
> hope u liked, lemme know what u thought here on say hi on [ twt ](https://twitter.com/seunglixx) or [ cc ](https://curiouscat.me/spearbis) !!


End file.
